


Before Paincrazy

by firelakie



Series: Minutiae Essays [2]
Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-03
Updated: 2010-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:18:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelakie/pseuds/firelakie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kiss before Paincrazy. From Howie's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before Paincrazy

He was in pain.  
I held him.

He'd do it for me, why would I think anything of offering a shoulder to lean on?

I'm his brother.

His tears soaked my vintage shirt but I didn't mind. He was hurting. So I'd endure a few sobs and random outbursts.

He was my brother.

He didn't need to be thinking what can a brother do for me in his time of need.

I was there.

Patting his back, I said a few generic words of comfort to the effect of, "It's okay" and "I'm here for you."

He still cried.

The tears never stopped.

He seemed so strong. I'd expected myself to break before he ever did.

Guess I was wrong.

Picking up the fallen pieces was my job now.

Damage control was my specialty. He came to the right person.

His head was buried in my shoulder as he shouted on about stuff through tears.

My embrace tightened as the outbursts got more intense.

Had to ride things over with him.

He wrapped an arm around me and soon I felt his lips brush my neck.

Honest mistake, I thought.

It must've not bothered him as he wept some more. "It's gonna be alright," I said.

"I don't want to feel this way," he says. "I'm torn."

"Between what?" I wonder.

"A lot. Mainly what I want to be and what I am."

I laughed. "Everybody goes through that stage in life. I did. You'll get through it."

"No one can save me." Now he was talking crazy.

I let him talk though. He was getting his ills out and I had to listen.

He pushed away from me but still kept his palms on my chest. There was this wild, scared look in his eyes. Like that little child inside of all us. Except his was exposed to the shit going on in his adult existence.

Stuff its big imagination could never fanthom and it caused a momentary revelation where East meets West.

Scared me for brief sec cuz he looked so vulnerable. He had issues churning inside. I wonder what it was like.

For him.

I knew me, but not him.

We didn't have the same mind.

I knew what it was like to feel worthless.

Those eyes of his narrowed on mine and for a moment I felt his being jolt right through my soul and take over. My heart was on my sleeve; all secrets brought to the light without bias.

I wanted to look away but he had me; so paralyzed, stuck in a muddy trench by my axel.

Things I'm sure he knew now of me that I hid.

That's what I desired.

To hide from him and that blinding spotlight.

To scatter away like a cockroach in the kitchen.

Cover my loins like the first sinners.

He reached out to touch my face. His fingers were stained with palpable signs of a slight nutrition problem. Vitamin deficiency maybe.

They ran across my two-day old stubble, then around my eyes. All the while I stared.

What he was doing? I couldn't guess.

He fingered some strands my hair and seemed to study it carefully. Like he found a split end or something.

"Wh--"

"Ssh," he hushed me quietly. His focus on my hair deepened. But my eyes played temptress in a sense and caught his attention once again.

This time he broke away quickly and returned his head to its perch atop my torso. He shook his head as he muttered something to himself.

I didn't ask.

Not an utter escaped me.

Shock from being open; surprise by it all.

He never did this before.

He let go finally and met with my eyes for a second time. Looking away was my only option. The exposure was too great.

I closed my eyes to forget.

Lips were warm upon mine and so natural that it shook me. Cuz I knew it was his.

I felt them wanted to taste them fully but couldn't.

This was my portal. He stole from me.

That essence of everything I couldn't be and was not--stripped of me.

Bringing forth who I was aware of within.

What was chipping away at him was seizing what I knew of me.

And it scared me.

I wanted it to stop. To end.

But would I be afraid of what was left when it did?

How could I deal?

Against my will he brought me out. Subjected me to this experience.

Then he ceased altogether.

The pleasant warmth was gone.

My exposure,that open sore healed with new skin.

Floodgates latched shut securely.

Like I wasn't taken from zero to sixty so forcefully.

Like he hadn't slit the bag, put his pinky in and tasted my soul.

He turned away from me. "Sorry," he said, clearing his throat.

Thoughts weren't going to cross his mind of how significant this was I knew. It might just fall into his short term memory and be forgotten.

Or vividly come across as a drunken action.

I couldn't help but harbor hope of more.

I always wanted something more.

We all want what we can't have.

To say it all, my confession, I wouldn't know where to begin or where to end.

What was I hiding?

What I was hiding he made me see

What I was hiding from was me

I was a fake.

And he was right . . . I couldn't save him.

I had to save myself.

 

In order to see the light there must first be darkness.

And I was comfortable with my book of matches.

He poured gasoline and threw a lantern at me, forcing the midnight out in a blink.

But I was back in my blackness holding on with a tiny flame glowing against it all.

Hopes of returning to the inferno frightened me.

Lighting one fire from my matchbook was just enough.

Just enough to keep me hanging

Til I decide to move on.

Still life is a kaleidoscope changing colors every day.

You see yourself floating above the changes

The truth to you.

Problem is, you see the person you don't like

who you've become

Who has taken over the you _you_ tried to conceal

And it scares you.

 

minutae essays ©


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